


Sunday Mornings

by ruuinxs



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Depressing, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:35:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25181086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruuinxs/pseuds/ruuinxs
Summary: What could hurt more, right?
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Sunday Mornings

**Author's Note:**

> wowowowowowoow okay i havent written in a supperrrr long time like a month or smth?? anygay so i was looking at angsty shit one day and my mind said ‘hey you’re feeling sad now how about we write smth?’and usually i wrote fluff when i feel sad but i wrote angst instead??? FUN! also it is 06:21 in the morning for me so ty

Practically draped over him. A pale arm, rested heavily on his stomach, snores coming from the boy next to him.

The room was a mess. Papers were everywhere, dirty clothes overflowing that nobody bothered to do. 

Oikawa was asleep. Light, small snuffles and snores that escaped his mouth, alive and healthy. 

Iwaizumi read his book. A popular novel he was recommended —quite sad, being honest— but nonetheless an amazing story. 

The room smelled faintly of coffee, two mostly empty mugs. One of the cups previously held black coffee, the other, hot cocoa.

Light seeped into the room. Oikawa was looking at blinds one day and found ones that were supposed to prevent all light from coming in, but it proved to be a rip off. 

Sunday mornings were the best. Iwaizumi could enjoy peaceful, quiet time with the man he loved sleeping next to him. Oikawa would wake up before Iwaizumi, make their drinks and come back in the room, to which Iwaizumi would already be awake and they’d enjoy the morning, Oikawa passing out again. 

He was never a morning person. 

And he never will be. But that was different for Iwaizumi. 

Up at the crack of dawn. Sweating. 

Sunday mornings with coffee and hot chocolate and reading turned into nightmares and memories and fear.

Oikawa no longer draped his arm over him. No more light peeked through. The entire room was destroyed, trashed. It smelled of heaviness, dread.

Iwaizumi couldn’t breathe as he was pulled further and further down into his mind. It was all gone.

The news article still sat on his dresser. 

He looked at it, a nearly year old story. 

“Oikawa Tooru found dead in building fire.”

Iwaizumi was still mad. They were supposed to leave together. 

Together, and Iwaizumi would make sure of it, a grip around the cold metal in his hand, debating whether his neck or chest would hurt more.

He didn’t care, though. 

Nothing could match the pain of losing Oikawa.


End file.
